


Ask With Your Heart, And You Will Receive

by ColorlessPalette



Category: Barbie - All Media Types, Barbie and the Diamond Castle (2008)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bet you forgot these characters existed, Complicated Relationships, F/F, Femslash, Inspired by Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 19:58:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20494490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorlessPalette/pseuds/ColorlessPalette
Summary: One downside of being a demigod is not being able to explain human emotions.





	Ask With Your Heart, And You Will Receive

To Phaedra, love is a fragile thing, and comparable to the thin strings of an instrument. One mistake; a forceful, misguided gesture, and you could severely damage it. This is why she is careful to work with her lute, dainty fingers gliding over the chords as her sweet music fills the air. But another thing Phaedra debates with is the meaning of love itself. Does it have a strong correlation with the nature of kinship and bonding, such as student to mentor? Or is it something deeper than that? 

Phaedra knows that she could always ask Dori, but it wouldn’t be that simple. The dark haired muse has more knowledge than a book could hold. The words drip from its pages in her presence, and the ink flows freely, cutting deep as it stains Phaedra’s heart with permanent intent. Permanent, as the ink remains for as long as her heart beats, and it is commonplace that guardians of music live eternally. 

What curse could be more damning than immortality? Phaedra suspects that she’s found it at last. It is the insatiable desire to love. To hold another tenderly, feeling the heat radiate from their soft body. Her emotions are futile, much as the peasant hungers for a meal he can never have, no matter how much he turns out his pockets. Dori simply has no time for love; a muse does not have time to rot away at the base of shrines planted by mortal hands. And yet, even in the darkest of times, hope can get you a long way. 

Melody is the catalyst. The muses take in a human girl, as even the greatest demigods must be gifted to sculpt life into reality. The brunette is adequate in her musical talent, and the girl’s curiosity only lends itself to push her further. Dori takes up role as teacher immediately, to which Lydia is the polar opposite. Phaedra must remain the straight man for now, but she grins and bares it all, just to see Dori and their new apprentice relaxed. 

“That child’s oddity is something I can never wrap my head around,” Dori says one day as the two muses are alone together in the main room, tuning their instruments. Her lyre hums with life as it is brought back to salvation, the notes falling in place. 

“Melody does have her quirks,” Phaedra agrees.“But I see that she’ll grow into a fine young lady someday.” 

“That transformation is near fruition. Melody shapes herself as each new day begins.” 

As Dori continues on, Phaedra’s thoughts begin to drift. How does one begin to shape their feelings for somebody into a tangible thing? Right now, Phaedra’s mind is bombarded by abstract shapes. They take a hazy form and bring her back to Dori, the beautiful woman sitting in front of her. For the first time in years, it strikes Phaedra how different the two women are. Despite being the more mature one, Dori is not nearly uptight as she is. This reflects in their appearances, and Phaedra’s eyes wander down to Dori’s dress. Her outfit is sleeveless. Where as Phaedra covers her shoulders, Dori’s are exposed to the elements, built with all the smoothness and strength of a goddess. Enchanting. 

“Are you quite alright?” 

Her voice pulls Phaedra out of her admiration and back to reality, where Dori is looking with a questionable expression. 

“Oh, of course!” Phaedra sputters, feeling something she can’t quite place arise in her chest. 

_You were staring again,_ a voice echoes; her voice. _If only your eyes were as quick as your wits._

“If you are so sure,” Dori says. 

The two sit in silence, broken only by the music of Lydia, coming down the hall from somewhere in the castle. The flutist has always struck a chord with Phaedra, and her music flows eerily through one’s ears. Now is no different, and the presence of it serves to make her more anxious. 

“Dori…” Phaedra puts her lute down. “Might I ask you a question?” 

The woman chuckles gently, “Certainly. And you don’t have to be so formal, Phae. We’ve known each other since the days of abyssal skies.” 

Phaedra shifts in her seat. “I have heard of this concept… one that humans call love. What does it mean to you?” 

Now it is Dori’s turn to put her instrument to the ground. “That’s a complicated one. Do you mean in a platonic sense? If so, than we and humanity have something in common.” 

“I was thinking of something deeper,” Phaedra admits, rubbing the back of her neck. 

“I see…” Dori stands, pacing around her fellow muse. “The concept of love, as it pertains to romance, is a process that many of our creed dismiss as strictly mortal.” Her sharp eyes focus on Phaedra. “I, however, beg to differ.” 

“Have you ever felt it?” Phaedra stands up now too. This revelation of Dori’s attitude towards love is a welcome surprise, and she is thankful that her companion isn’t cold to the emotions of such feelings. 

Dori’s eyes darken, clouded over with sadness. “I did, once. A mortal. But my love was lost to the sea, for the waters are no shelter, not even to a sailor.” 

As Phaedra took on a look of pity, Dori picked back up with, “It was a long time ago. We must accept that one way or another, we all feed the earth.” 

“Not us. We are eternal, and with the lifelong responsibilities our souls wear thin,” Phaedra replies. 

“That might be one way of looking at it,” Dori mutters. She then turns her attention back to the muse. “Why the sudden interest in romance? Has cupid taken you under his wing lately?” 

Phaedra looks down, partly out of shame. “Not exactly.” 

She then bites back a gasp as a hand gently places itself on her shoulder. “You can trust me,” Dori hums. “I won’t tell a soul.” 

Whether her own mind playing tricks on her, or a spur of the moment reaction, Phaedra swears that she sees a glint in Dori’s otherwise calm eyes. 

“I-It’s a bit embarrassing…” 

“Dori? Phaedra?” Melody stands in the large doorway. She tentatively looks to the side. “Am I… interrupting something?” 

The startled muses soften their expressions smile warmly at their apprentice. “Not at all,” Dori says. “What is it, Melody?” 

“I’ve been trying to look more into the history of music, but it’s kind of hard for me. Could you two help me, please? 

” Phaedra nods, trying to keep calm. “In a moment, of course. There should be some books in the library to get you started.” 

Melody dips her head quickly. “Thanks!” she exclaims before running off to the stairs. 

Dori laughs, “See? What did I tell you?” 

“I guess you are right, then,” Phaedra says. “Our Melody is a studious girl.” 

Dori playfully raises an eyebrow. “_Our?_ You make it sound as if we are raising a child together.” 

“I- um… a foolish slip of the tongue,” the brown eyed muse explains. 

“Is it now?” 

The glint flares up again, and Phaedra’s chest in encapsulated by the quick strike of the same, alien feeling in her chest. Almost as if her heart is set to burst. 

“We should go somewhere more private,” Dori almost whispers. “I believe there is much we have to discuss.” 

This isn’t the normal Dori that she knows. The fellow muse has often had a childish side to her, but nothing of this caliber. Phaedra must keep from collapsing as Dori leads her by the hand to her quarters. Dori’s room is draped in royal blue, fabric soft and fit for a queen. The muse in question lays on her bed, while Phaedra stands in the doorway. 

“Don’t be shy,” Dori chirps, patting the space next to her. “Have a seat.” 

Phaedra steps into the bedroom, and shyly sits next to Dori, muscles tense. “Now, why don’t you tell me all about this person you yearn for?” 

Her skin prickles as Dori’s hands begin to rub her arms, and Phaedra both feels herself relaxing and getting riled up. 

“I’m not quite sure where to start.” For why does Dori play with her like this? Surely she must know the feelings harbored for her by now. It is not uncommon for messages to be shared between them, but even so… 

“Describe this mysterious one.” 

“The hair that flows from their scalp is dark, and soft. Their eyes could light up the darkest of rooms.” 

“Is that what you find most alluring?” 

“There is more to my love than appearances, surely.” 

“Then tell me more about him… I must see if he is a worthy suitor for you, matter not of man or god.” 

_Oh Hades._

Phaedra’s heart falls faster than the stars. She truly is blinded by foolishness, isn’t she? As if a goddess could have eyes for another female. 

“I do apologize if I’m hounding you,” Dori carries on with a smile, messaging Phaedra’s shoulders now. “It has been a long time since I’ve discussed the topic of love, and I am quite intrigued by your partner.” 

_That is rather egotistical of you, is it not Dori?_ The woman catches her thoughts, and curses herself for being bitter. 

If only she knew of the misunderstanding that had taken place over the last few minutes. Likening the expression in Dori’s eyes to curiosity was a painful thing to do. But the truth can be painful, Phaedra realises. Dori’s fingertips barely make an impact anymore, as the muse gets consumed further into her own thoughts. Perhaps it has been so long since either of them has loved another, that signals and signs get blended together until the romance is left null. Phaedra takes a deep breath as Dori rambles on. 

“You misunderstand,” she says as she turns her head. 

Dori questions, stopping her motions all together, “What do you mean?” 

A tug on the taller muse’s wrist is all it takes to draw her forwards. In an instant Phaedra’s lips are on Dori’s, and the aching in her chest explodes through a mix of guilt and lust. Dori’s lips are softer than she could have ever imagined, her muffled gasp of surprise only fueling the fire in Phaedra’s heart. For a moment, the ink begins to melt. Only a moment. And then their lips separate. 

“There,” Phaedra chokes, not being able to look Dori in the eyes after coming back to her senses. “Now you know my secret.” 

Dori says nothing, only touches her own lips with a distant look in her eyes. Phaedra has the unquenchable urge to kiss Dori again, but the goddess in her knows better. She closes her eyes and bites her lip, accepting whatever fate may be brought unto her. 

“I…” Dori pauses, and clears her throat before saying, “I had no idea, Phaedra.” 

“It seemed to me that you did, by the way your actions were conveyed. But I guess I’m just another fool.” 

A hand turns her head to Dori’s face, where she continues, “You are not a fool, Phaedra. For it is me who is blind to advances such as these.” 

Phaedra tilts her head, confused. “But you have loved before… have you not?” 

Dori sighs. “There was definitely something between us, but I believe now that it wasn’t strong enough. He made the first move, and I suppose…” 

“You didn’t want to lead him on,” Phaedra finishes. 

“Something like that.” 

Dori adjusts her posture and swings her hips over the edge of the bed. “I need a minute to think this over.” 

“I’ll leave,” Phaedra says abruptly, jerking herself off of Dori’s bed. 

“Wait!” A hand grabs hers and it seems to go limp in Dori’s presence. “Stay, please.” 

They sit back down and Dori begins after some time, “There is a difference between love and infatuation. That much I know. Do you know what it is?” 

Phaedra hesitantly shakes her head. 

“Think of it like this: two muses are playing their lutes.” 

“Okay,” Phaedra reluctantly pictures the metaphor. 

“One muse is fierce, strumming her lute until the strings become threadbare and fall apart. Her music is louder than the others, and more richly composed. The other plays slowly and hushed, but as the first muse breaks her lute, the second gradually builds up her piece until it becomes an eternal song of beauty.” 

Dori gently clasps her hands onto Phaedra’s, and looks her in the eyes. “Which lute player do you think you are?” she breathes. 

“If you’re asking whether I love you or not, then…” the lady’s eyes begin to drip with fresh, salty tears. 

“That is for you to figure out, not I,” Dori responds, with a look of sadness in her eyes as she thumbs Phaedra’s teardrops away. Phaedra grasps Dori’s arm. “Do you love _me?_” 

The blue dressed muse ghosts her lips over Phaedra’s palm. “You are a most beautiful woman, Phaedra.” 

“I want so much to kiss you again.” 

Dori rests her thumb and index finger under the other muse’s chin and tilts Phaedra’s head upwards. “Be that by flesh or bone, your feelings are not in vain.” Dori places her hand to Phaedra’s chest, the woman’s breath sending a comforting warmth through her. “They are simply a part of you.” 

And their lips find each other once more. 

~~~ 

A thin ribbon of sunlight brings Phaedra out of her slumber, enchanting Dori’s room to be brighter than it already is. Phaedra groggily opens her eyes, an odd array of colors coming into her vision. She then remembers where she is, and a light blush finds her cheeks. Phaedra struggles to get out of Dori’s bed, but is held back by soft arms. The muse looks over to see Dori, with her eyes half open, cradling Phaedra’s midsection. The arms undo themselves as Dori yawns and sits up. 

“Good morning,” she murmurs. The muse’s untied hair falls softly to her shoulders. 

Phaedra feels as though she has been sent to purgatory, picking up quickly the events of the night prior. “Oh god. I… I’m really sorry if-” 

Dori places an index finger to Phaedra’s lips. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Phae. I can promise you that.” 

“So…” Phaedra breathes, pushing back her own untied hair. “What happens now?” 

“We figure this out,” Dori purrs, placing a kiss onto Phaedra’s forehead. “Together.” 

“Together,” Phaedra agrees, her face heating up as a shy smile makes its way across her face. 

Perhaps the strings of a broken lute could be tied back together after all.

**Author's Note:**

> God I haven't written in so long! This felt so good to write, even if it is a bit cheesy. With school starting again I probably won't be able to write as much as I have been over the summer. Also, I'm considering rewriting my last Barbie fanfiction... idk, it seems a bit edgy even for me.


End file.
